


kingdom come

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Almost Sex, Fluff, M/M, not sex though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake to an empty bed and the sound of water running.</p>
<p>You slowly sit up and stretch your back until every vertebrae pops out of and back into place, the amaranth sheets pooling at your hips as your mouth stretches into a wide yawn. Slipping out onto the floor, you smack your lips and come to the conclusion that you might as well shower with Dave, you know, to save water. And time. And to do other things, heh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kingdom come

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [tumblr](amporas.tumblr.com)
> 
> thanks to tumblr user [universalcancer](universalcancer.tumblr.com)

You wake to an empty bed and the sound of water running.

You slowly sit up and stretch your back until every vertebrae pops out of and back into place, the amaranth sheets pooling at your hips as your mouth stretches into a wide yawn. Slipping out onto the floor, you smack your lips and come to the conclusion that you might as well shower with Dave, you know, to save water. And time. And to do other things, heh.

As your bare feet pad onto the cold tile in the bathroom, your ears pick up a steady humming. Apparently your idiot boyfriend is too cool for something as lame as shower-singing, so he hums instead, creating beautiful melodies that are just as wonderful.

Royal blue boxers join Batman ones on the floor, the soft music faltering as you pull the plastic curtain aside, a soft smile meeting your lips as you murmur a curt "hey."

The blonde man in your shower takes one of your hands as you step over the edge of bathtub and into the spray, wincing when it's far too hot for your taste. "Jesus, Dave, how hot does this have to be?"

Chuckling and shaking his head, Dave reaches behind him to turn the water down a bit. "Somewhere between the flames of Hell and fire cannot kill a dragon. Hot enough to wake me the fuck up. That better?"

"Much." You peck a kiss onto Dave's lips, that of which he returns immediately. "What were you humming earlier?"

His brow furrowed slightly, he hums and lovingly brushes the damp inky strands of hair out of your eyes. Finally, Dave murmurs, "Some Coldplay song. ['Kingdom Come'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yo49REpQCwA) or some shit." His words are accompanied by a shrug.

You take the hand by your face in one of your own, and you press a kiss to the smooth knuckles prior to sliding your hands up his arms to lazily loop your arm around his neck. You lay your head on his shoulder as his hands automatically clasp behind your lower back, his stubbly cheek resting on your hair. Offhandedly, you think that you both might need to shave at some point in the near future. "Sing it to me."

"Gay."

"Who would've guessed."

After a silent moment, a few notes fall from his throat, hummed, probably the pre-chorus. You realize it might take a minute for him to actually start singing, though you have reminded him countless times that you love his voice.

Eventually, his voice comes gently, tentatively, his breath warm on your ear. "For you, I'd wait 'til kingdom come."

A warm grin spreads across your face, your eyes slipping shut. Dave gently rocks you, and suddenly you are struck by the domesticity of it all.

"Until my day," He turns his head slightly to kiss your wet hair, "my day is done. And say you'll come, and set me free."

Your lips twitch wider as his thumbs spread a bit, brushing vague patterns on your skin.

"Just say you'll wait, bluebird, you'll wait for me."

And then you two are quiet, letting the hot wash over you two as you stand in a comfortable silence.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when the sound and caress of lazy kisses on your neck break the hush. Your eyes flutter open to see that Dave has tilted his head, eyes half-lidded as his tongue peaks out of his lips to swipe across your skin. Your breath hitches. "God, I love you so much," you murmur on a single puff of air, your fingers tugging on the short blonde hairs at the base of his neck.

You hum and smile softly as he gently bites your neck, and you can feel your blood rushing downward. Your lover lifts his head to press a kiss to your mouth, and you part your lips without hesitation, the taller man's tongue slipping past your lips. You let your eyes slip shut. Dave's hands slide down to your hips, rubbing gentle circles into the flesh there as he carefully nudges you backward in attempt to press you to the cool tile wall.

What ensues thereafter is a blur.

Your feet must've tangled with his. They must've slipped on the smooth porcelain floor. You're not sure how it happened, but you end up with your back on the bathtub floor, the back of your head throbbing. Your wrist burns where Dave must've tried to catch you... Oh, Dave. Right. You blink open your eyes to see a blurry figure standing over you, concern written on his features with a black marker. Dave's lips are moving, and you realizing he's saying your name like a mantra, _johnjohnjohnjohn, are you okay, oh my god john._

The humor of it all hits you before you can respond, that fact that you were fully intending on having sex with your boyfriend, and like the doofus you are, you fucking fell. You laugh weakly, eyebrow raised and your eyes half-closed in pain. Dave hesitantly, almost _nervously_ laughs in response, turning to quickly stop the spray of water before crouching in front of you, gingerly brushing the wet strands of hair out of your face.

The magnitude of your headache hits you when you attempt to open your eyes again. Everything is white, far too white and bright and it overwhelms your vision and a pathetic whimper escapes your lips. Your eyes are shut, squeezing out all the offending light.

Apparently that concerns Dave, and you hear is voice again. It comes soft, like he's talking to an injured animal, which you suppose he is. "Babydoll, I need you to talk to me, holy fucking Christ are you okay."

"M'fine. Head hurts," you manage, feeling him set a hand on your arm.

"Yeah, you fucking slammed it on the wall." He keeps his voice low, probably aware that you're sensitive to sound. "I need to get you out of here, sweetheart. Can you get up?"

You lift your arms and feel around until you find his neck, looping your arms tightly around it and mumbling, "Carry me."

A breathy puff of a laugh escapes his lips as he braces his hands under your thighs. And then you're being lifted, being carefully carried out of the bathroom. You hide your face in the skin of his neck, focusing on his breathing rather than the pounding of your brain. Soft silk sheets press against your dripping back, and you mumble something to Dave that vaguely sounds like an opposition. Suddenly his arms are leaving and you panic; the room is much too cold and every noise is far loud for him to be leaving you alone, so you whine, and you feel his lips pressing to your forehead to calm you down.

“Sh, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he murmurs against your skin, gently carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m gonna get you some ibuprofen and shit. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And with another kiss to your forehead, he’s gone. You faintly hear the sound of him rummaging through the bathroom cabinets, cursing occasionally before he’s beside you again.

“Can you sit up for me, darlin’?” You absent-mindedly note that he must be extremely worried about you, as his accent is slipping into his words more than usual. God, you love his southern accent. You just sort of melt a bit and forget whatever language is sliding out of his lips and focus on the actual sound of his voice. Dave could be speaking French and you wouldn't even know it. Wait, shit, he’s asking for you to sit up. You comply, leaning heavily against the headboard of the bed with your eyes still squeezed shut, in fear of the heinous light.

“John, baby, I got some shit here that’s going to make your head hurt less. Probably. At least most of the time. Whatever, can you open your--”

“No.”

“No?” His voice sounds unsure.

“No.” you confirm.

“All the light are off. I’ll even- shit, gimme a sec.” There’s some shuffling around, and then there’s a pair of metal frames slipping on your face. You blink open your eyes, barely wincing when blue eyes make contact with red ones through the dark plastic of your lover's shades.

“Hi,” you mumble sheepishly.

“Hi,” Dave mumbles back, a smile playing on his lips. “How bad does it hurt?”

“Hella.” You lean forward enough to rest your forehead on your boyfriend's shoulder, sniffing softly.

Dave hums in response. "Concussion hella, or just migraine hella?"

You pause as you think this through, and you notice his fingers softly grazing your bare back, tracing invisible patterns and droplets of water and the ink on your skin. After a moment, you murmur, "...Just a migraine. Not dizzy or anything."

You feel him nod slightly, turning his head a bit to press a kiss to your throbbing temple. “Got some drugs and water if you want ‘em.”

"Myeh, hang on."

"Take your time."

About half an hour of whining later, you end up wrapped in about four blankets, only the top of your head and your toes poking out of the burrito mess. Heh. Egburrito.

You're sitting on the counter, watching Dave cook. Or, attempt to cook. You know he burns everything he touches. But, hey, as the final tendrils of your migraine slip from your tired brain, you realize that you don't mind one bit.


End file.
